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About Brussels

Exaggeratin’ a bit—felt like that car had a soul, swear it’d groan when I loaded it heavy, like it’s sayin’, “Man, gimme a break!” Loved that junker, tho—ugly, loud, but mine. Still, them newer cars? Pfft, Escort’d eat their lunch in grit. “The City of God is yours,” they say in the flick—well, the road was mine with that heap. Y’all ever had an Escort? Tell me—*“How’s that workin’ for ya?”*—‘cause I’m still ridin’ that memory!

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Ya know, folks, it’s not just the sights. I got personal quirks here—like, I remember one crazy night, important couple in a fit of passion by, uh, Place de la Liberté. Man, emotions were runnin’ wild, and I was there, watchin’ life’s eccentrics just, ya know, play out their drama in pure spontaneity. Crazy, right? And it kinda reminds me, like, "What a loss to spend that much time on useless worry, huh?" (Yeah, a lil’ jab at our everyday blues there, kinda Joe Biden style, ya feel?)

In Belgium’s Borinage, where Van Gogh the pastor became a painter